


Spellbound

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2018 SPNKinkBingo [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Multi, Smut, Witchcraft, sex spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 10:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: A hunt goes sideways when a witch hits you and the Winchesters with an interesting spell...





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> Tagging for dub-con, but all parties completely consent.

“Well,” the witch purrs, voice crisp and airy. She tucks your guns away in her expensive bag, shifts the heavier weight of it on her small shoulder. “I really must be going now...but I did have fun!” She smiles slow, ruby lips stretching to reveal bleached-white teeth. “You three enjoy yourselves…” **  
**

And with that, she’s spinning on her heels, platinum blonde waves bouncing behind her as she click-clacks  toward the door. You can feel your muscles twitch desperately as your brain screams at them to move, but the magic swirling through your synapses renders you immobile.

And then... _oh_.

You can move now, and with a heavy breath, you testingly clench and unclench your fists still frozen at your sides—but there’s a new feeling thrumming through your veins. It’s hot, tingly; and settles just behind your stiffening nipples and crux of your thighs.

Dean curses then, just as Sam makes a sound from deep in his chest, and you wonder if they’re feeling it too.

“What’s going…” Oh god. Your panties are flooding with warm slick and you’re suddenly clenching at nothing. “...on?”

You’re standing small between the two towering hunters, you’ve  _been_  standing here for the past several minutes—but now you can smell them, can smell the musky spice of them that’s all man...all  _Winchester_.

A voice at the back of your head screams  _‘Sex spell! You’ve been hit with a fucking sex spell!’_ —but you’re hot and wet and absolutely buzzing with arousal, and your tongue feels dry and swollen behind your teeth.

Your neck is stiff between your shoulders as you turn your head left—Sam’s rigid, lips parted, and you can hear the thready little pants punching out into the stillness of the witch’s living room.

You look to your right—Dean’s got the same expression as his brother; stiff and almost pained, but you can see the bolt of his jaw working under his skin.

Words are impossible, you quickly discover, as any attempt at speech garbles in your throat, resulting in a strangled moan.

Two sets of eyes are on you now, gazes hot and hungry. Your feet take two steps forward and turn so that you’re facing the hunters, and then, without your approval, you’re sinking to your knees, the hardwood floor harsh and uncomfortable against your denim-covered kneecaps.

Then, almost as if on cue, the men begin working their belts open. They almost look robotic, the way their hands move in sync, the way their ravenous expressions mirror each other’s as they tug their jeans down their muscular thighs.

Dean frees his cock first—and you clench again at the thickness of it. You’ve barely had time to take in the smooth skin and flushed pink head when you catch movement from the corner of your eye.

Sam’s giant hand fists his equally giant length, fingers curled tight and pinching. He’s a little longer than Dean, but not quite as thick, and in your lusty haze, you wonder how it would feel to be stuffed full of them both.

You reach a hand up, trail your fingertips along the velvety expanse of the younger Winchester’s cock. You gingerly wrap your fingers around it, just in front of his. Sam moans low as you give him two testing pumps, hips twitching the contact.

Your tongue drags your bottom lip between your teeth as you smolder up at Sam from underneath your lashes. His eyes flutter, struggling to stay open as he watches you work your hand along his length.

After several seconds, you finally let your gaze flick to Dean, who’s pumping himself as he watches you. You mold your left hand around his wide girth just as he lets his slip away. God, it feels so  _good_  to have both men in your literal grasp, and the simple touch makes your cunt ache.

You quickly find an even, slow-and-steady rhythm as the brothers gasp over you. The spell makes you bold, and you find yourself suddenly stretching your neck forward, giving Dean a feral look from under your brows before licking his flared head into your mouth.

The eldest Winchester groans gritty-deep as you close your lips around him. You moan right back at the salty taste of him, then work your way up his shaft, flattening your tongue against the thick vein underneath. You keep going, stopping only when your lips meet your curled fingers at his base.

You continue to stroke Sam while your mouth works his brother over, and he hisses when you you slick your thumb through the gathered precome burgeoning from his slit.

You’re picking up speed now, and you have to pull back when the head of Dean’s cock bumps the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex. You pull all the way off, run your fist easy over his saliva-slick shaft as you redirect your attention to Sam.

The youngest Winchester sucks in a sharp breath as you lean in, lick the tip just soft enough to make his hips spasm, delighting in the way his dick twitches in your hand. Long fingers thread in your hair as you suck him in, blunt nails tingling at your scalp. You respond by hollowing your cheeks as you start to bob, curled hand pulsing and gently twisting at the root.

You can hear Dean slicking through the wet your mouth left on him, and shit, it makes the magic inside you  _hum_.

Your jaw starts to ache but you aren’t slowing down, the spell won’t  _let_  you—so you keep on slurping, keep on sucking until you have to pull back for air.

The room’s mostly silent, just the wet sucking sound of your mouth and the choked grunts and moans of the men you’re pleasuring.

Dean’s in deep now, strong fingers scrunching in your hair as he holds your head still, hips rolling as he fucks into your mouth. You’ve got one hand up your shirt, squeezing at your own breast, while the other’s shoved down the front of your jeans and panties, two fingers pumping in and out of your weeping cunt. Your throbbing jaw hangs loose as he hammers in; wet, choked sounds from your throat accompanying his every thrust.

He pulls back with strangled grunt, panting; thick fingers clamped tight around his glistening shaft.

Sam curves a hand at the back of your skull, pulls you toward him where you eagerly drop your jaw to swallow him down. You release your breast to bring your hand up to your throat, where you can feel it bulging as he fucks in deep. Tears stream down your cheeks—the result of nonstop deepthroating—and drool runs down your chin and the soft slope of your neck as you keep your mouth pliant. You slip your fingers from your entrance to furiously rub at your swollen clit while you fit a steadying hand against the clenching muscle of Sam’s naked thigh.

The sound of the brothers’ collective breathy moans and gravelly grunts is what sends you hurtling over the edge, keening out your orgasm around Sam’s pistoning length.

The noises punching from Dean’s throat deepen as he jerks himself, and Sam’s rhythm starts to falter; they’re both close—

You slick off Sam’s length, lick at your soft, swollen lips as you blink lazy at him, then at Dean.

“Face,” you whisper, eyes dancing between them. “Come on my face…”

The brothers exchange a hazy, but understanding glance and then shuffle closer to you, two different hands finding a place on your head as they wildly pump themselves to completion.

You close your eyes, drop your hands to your thighs as you wait for the finale, cunt still pulsing.

Dean comes first, groans deep as he unloads thick stripes of hot wet onto your forehead and left cheek. Sam’s coming before Dean can spurt out the last of his, most of it landing on the apple of your right cheek, some streaking across the bridge of your nose.

The hunters’ spendings ooze slowly down the length of your face, cooling as it descends. You blink fast and gasp as your mind clears, as the magic dissolves.

When you look up, the guys are doing the same, and you giggle softly as they spin away from each other in shocked horror, usually steady fingers fumbling with their jeans.

You stiffly rise to your feet, fingers tenderly dabbing at the drying come on your face as the boys tighten their belts into place.

“Oh, uh—here,” Dean mumbles, shrugging off his grey flannel. He holds it out to you and you take it, bunching it up to wipe yourself clean.

“Are...are you okay?” Dean asks, struggling to make eye contact.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you laugh. “Kinda... _really_  good.”

Dean smiles shy and nods, scratches his head while Sam heaves a heavy breath, and runs a hand through his long hair. “So, um...is that it? Is the spell broken?”

“It feels like it,” you say, balling up Dean’s ruined shirt.

“Unless there’s another wave of it,” Dean points out, chewing at the corner of his mouth. He gets his hands on his hips, breathes an exasperated sigh, and tips his head back until he’s glowering at the ceiling.

“Fucking. Witches.”


End file.
